socialize

Two days later, Zara was back in her usual spot—headphones on, hoodie up, locked into another round of gaming, the soft glow of her monitor casting shadows across her dim room. The outside world didn't exist in here. Just her, her squad, and the buzz of combat.

She didn't hear her mum knock the first time.

The second knock was louder, followed immediately by the door creaking open.

"Zara," her mum called over the music. "Hey—Zara."

Zara barely glanced over her shoulder. "What?"

Her mum stepped in, arms crossed, already wearing sneakers and holding a set of keys. "You need to get out of this room. Seriously. You've been cooped up here since we got here."

"I'm fine."

"You're not. You haven't left the house in days, your legs are going to forget how to work." She gestured toward the window. "Just… take a walk. See the neighborhood. Maybe there are some kids your age. Maybe even human contact."

Zara pulled one side of her headphones off. "I talk to people. I literally talk to people every day."

"Online doesn't count. Not for everything." Her mum softened her voice. "Just thirty minutes, okay? It'll be good for you."

Zara groaned dramatically and slumped forward in her chair. "You're actually forcing me to socialize. This is child abuse."

"Yeah, yeah. Tell the internet." Her mum tossed her a hoodie from the foot of the bed. "Go. Walk around. Explore. Breathe air."

Five minutes later, Zara was outside, hoodie zipped up, hands shoved into her pockets, headphones firmly back on.

The sun was bright—too bright. Birds chirped like it was their job. She trudged down the street, eyes flicking from one identical mailbox to the next. The neighborhood was calm, unnaturally so. She passed trimmed hedges, pastel-colored houses, and front porches with matching welcome mats.

It all felt… staged.

She turned a corner and kept walking, eyes mostly on the ground, music blaring in her ears. But as she passed a cul-de-sac, something caught her attention.

A group of teenagers were gathered near a basketball hoop, laughing and tossing a ball around. She couldn't hear what they were saying—headphones still in—but she could tell they were about her age.

Zara hesitated, just for a second.

One of them looked over and caught her eye. A guy with messy hair and a worn hoodie lifted a hand in a casual wave.

Zara blinked, surprised.

She gave a small, awkward nod back… then quickly looked away and kept walking.

The pavement crunched under Zara's boots as she walked, music pulsing in her ears. The cul-de-sac came into view—same group of teens, same lazy energy, the bounce of a basketball echoing faintly.

She kept her eyes down. Not looking to join, just passing by.

But then the ball slipped loose. It bounced once, rolled toward her, and stopped at her feet.

Zara hesitated for a second, then picked it up. No one asked. No one called out.

She squared her shoulders, took a step, and launched the ball toward the hoop.

Clean shot. Nothing but net.

A couple of heads turned. Someone let out a surprised "yo," but no one made a big deal out of it. They just kept playing.

Zara gave a half-shrug and kept walking.

But as she turned the corner, footsteps approached behind her.

She pulled one earbud out.

"Hey," a voice said. She turned slightly.

It was one of the guys from the court—the one who'd tossed a behind-the-back pass earlier like it was no big deal. He wasn't out of breath, just curious.

"You just move in?" he asked, hands in his pockets.

Zara nodded. "Couple days ago."

He gave a small nod back. "Cool. I'm Malik."

"Zara."

"Nice shot, by the way," he said, like it wasn't a compliment—just a fact.

Zara gave a small, almost-smile. "Thanks."

Malik pointed back toward the cul-de-sac. "We're usually out here around the same time. If you ever wanna play."

She didn't say yes. Didn't say no either.

Just nodded once, put her earbud back in, and kept walking.

The next day was Friday, and Zara went with her mum to the mosque. No one had pushed her to go. Her mum had mentioned she was heading over, and Zara just… decided to come along. No big reason. Maybe curiosity. Maybe routine.

They walked in quietly, the familiar hush of the space wrapping around her. Zara slipped off her shoes and followed her mum inside, headscarf tied loosely. The prayer hall was peaceful—just the murmur of greetings, the soft thud of footsteps on carpet, and the scent of clean air and worn pages.

She found a spot near the back, cross-legged, hoodie draped over her knees. The khutbah had already started. She tried to focus, catching a few lines here and there, but mostly let the calm of the space settle over her.

At some point, her eyes drifted toward the men's section, across the divider.

That's when she noticed him—Malik.

He wore a simple grey jalamia, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He sat still, listening, his posture relaxed but attentive. It was strange seeing someone she'd only known in motion—on the street, on the court—now sitting so quietly, so still.

He looked up for a second, and their eyes met.

No reaction. Just a flicker of acknowledgment.

Zara gave a barely-there nod. So did he. Then they both looked away.

After the prayer, the courtyard filled with slow-moving groups. Zara stepped outside and leaned against a low wall while her mum chatted with someone near the entrance.

She checked her phone, then pocketed it again. The sky was clear. The breeze was light. It felt good to just stand there.

"Hey."

She turned.

It was Malik, hands at his sides, jalamia rustling slightly in the breeze.

"You live close?" he asked.

"Yeah. A few streets down."

He nodded. "Same."

There was a pause—not tense, just quiet.

"We're running a game later," he said. "Couple of new kids joining. You should come through."

Zara looked off toward the road, then back at him. "Maybe."

"No pressure," he said, already turning away.

She didn't reply, just gave a quick nod and watched him walk off toward a small group waiting by the corner.

Zara looked around the courtyard—kids chasing each other, a few elders sitting on the bench under the tree, a woman handing out small cups of water. Everything felt steady. Familiar in a strange way.

She didn't decide anything right then.

But maybe she'd pass by the court later. Just to see.

________________________________

Zara hadn't planned on going.

But there she was, standing at the edge of the cul-de-sac again, watching the group play. The same familiar faces were there, along with a couple of new ones. The basketball bounced rhythmically, the sound of sneakers on pavement echoing in the quiet evening.

She hung back for a moment, her fingers instinctively tapping against her hoodie pocket. She had almost turned to leave when the ball suddenly rolled out of bounds, heading straight for her feet.

Without thinking, she bent down and picked it up.

"Not again," Malik called with a grin as he jogged over to her, his hoodie pulled up against the wind. "You're practically the ball magnet."

Zara couldn't help but smirk. "Guess I have a talent for it."

"Wanna join?" Malik asked, nodding toward the game. "We could use an extra player."

She hesitated for a second, her fingers still wrapped around the ball. She hadn't really come here to play. But there was something about the easy energy of the group, the casual vibe, that made her want to at least try.

"Alright," she said, her voice almost casual, but with that edge of uncertainty. "I'll give it a shot."

No one made a big deal of it. They just shifted around, made space, and let her in. The game continued with a lazy ease—more for fun than competition.

Zara moved with the flow of it. Her feet found the rhythm of the court, passing and dodging and shooting. She wasn't trying to impress anyone. She just played—and the ball moved through her hands like it had always belonged there. The shot she took landed clean, and a few heads turned with impressed grins.

"Yo, nice shot," Malik called out from the other side of the court, his voice light.

Zara gave a half-shrug, trying to play it cool, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Just got lucky."

But the game wasn't about luck. It was just something that flowed naturally. Her body warmed up with every pass, every move. She didn't think about the outside world, the quiet neighborhood or the kids she didn't know. All that mattered was the game, the beat of it, the back-and-forth with her teammates.

Before long, the game wrapped up, and Zara found herself standing on the sidelines, hands on her hips, breathing just a little heavier than usual. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed this—the rhythm, the movement, the people.

She wasn't sure what to do next. She didn't need to rush off, but she wasn't about to stick around forever either. She glanced over at Malik, who had walked over to the bench to grab his water bottle.

"Hey," she said, hesitating a little. "Thanks for letting me join."

"No problem," he replied easily, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "You're not half bad. We play here most evenings if you wanna come through again."

Zara gave him a small nod. "Maybe."

She turned, not sure if she was saying it for him or for herself. She had no idea what tomorrow would bring. But tonight? Tonight felt good.

She left the court, walking back down the street with her mind still buzzing, but in a way that felt lighter. The weight of her usual world—the one she kept at arm's length—hadn't completely disappeared. But for the first time in a while, she didn't mind it.

Back at home, Zara didn't waste time. She walked straight into her room, slipped off her shoes, and sat down at her computer. She clicked on her game, the familiar welcome screen flashing up, and before she could second-guess herself, her fingers were already moving over the keyboard.

The chaos of online gaming flooded her senses, the familiar chatter of her squad filling her ears. It was easy. Comfortable. No expectations.

"Zara, you in? We're about to drop," one of her teammates, Kai, called over the headset, their voice cutting through the static.

"Yeah, I'm here," Zara replied, already clicking through her loadout, slipping into the game like she always did.

Her teammate, Mia, chimed in next, "Let's do this, guys. We need a win tonight. I'm tired of losing."

Zara grinned, the tension in her shoulders loosening. "Don't worry. I've got you."

They jumped into the match. Zara's fingers flew over the keys as the game began, her concentration sharp. The team moved like a well-oiled machine, coordinating attacks and defenses. She was always in sync with them, her quick reflexes pulling off perfect headshots, landing grenades with precision.

"We've got company," Kai said, his voice low but urgent. "Two squads near us. Get ready."

Zara's heartbeat quickened, her mind locking into focus as she scanned the map. "I see them. We've got the high ground. Let's take the one on the left first."

"Zara, you take the flank," Mia ordered, her voice steady. "Kai and I will hold them off up front."

Zara nodded to herself. She dashed into position, her eyes flicking to the mini-map as she sprinted across the rooftop. The enemy squad was closer now—she could see them moving, unaware of her approach.

"Time for a little surprise," Zara murmured under her breath, lining up her shot.

She unleashed a perfect spray of bullets, taking down one enemy in a quick burst. Then, without hesitation, she dove behind cover as the rest of the squad retaliated.

"Nice!" Kai yelled. "Zara, you just saved our butts."

Zara didn't respond, her focus on the next threat. She peeked out from behind the wall, dropping another opponent with a well-placed shot. The adrenaline was starting to kick in, and her mind raced with the rapid calculations of the game.

"Last one's down," Mia called out. "That's a team wipe."

Zara exhaled sharply, leaning back in her chair for a second. "Yeah, but don't get too cocky. We've still got more to go."

The rest of the match played out in a blur of fast-paced action, with Zara leading her squad through ambushes, securing high ground, and making plays that seemed almost effortless. The game wasn't just a distraction anymore—it was a reminder that she was good at something. Something she could control.

By the time they won the match, Zara was practically buzzing with energy. The squad erupted in cheers over the mic.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Mia exclaimed. "We make a great team, Zara."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Zara teased, her grin audible in her voice. "Don't let it go to your heads."

Kai laughed, his voice full of mock drama. "Too late. We're taking you on as our permanent fifth. No way you're getting away from us now."

Zara chuckled, her shoulders relaxing as the tension melted away. "Guess I'll see if I'm available for your next round then."

The conversation drifted to casual chatter as they queued for another game, but Zara found herself a little more present this time—still on the edge of the court she'd just walked away from, her mind still filled with the energy of the game, both virtual and real.

Maybe she hadn't decided about the court yet. But she knew one thing for sure: today, she'd made progress, even if only by inches.